


but for you i kinda want to

by howdoyousleep



Series: Daddy Steve Rogers/Baby Bucky Barnes [23]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, Collars, Daddy Kink, Daddy Steve, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Feminization, Humiliation, Intimacy, Kink Discovery, Kink Exploration, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mirror Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Praise Kink, Rimming, Sex Talk, Sex Toys, Size Difference, Subspace, Topping from the Bottom, Topspace, Verbal Humiliation, baby bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:14:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29323032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howdoyousleep/pseuds/howdoyousleep
Summary: When Steve looks up and over at Bucky on his phone at the other end of the couch, thinks and murmurs out loud, “I love you,”, Bucky barely lifts his head before whispering back, “I love you too,” without thought.It’s that easy, that bone-deep, that instinctual.Steve is going to wear a collar.***After being caught off-guard by a curious inquiry by Bucky one morning, Steve is consumed by thoughts that he’s never had before, that question his role in his relationship with Bucky and his ability to provide for Bucky’s wants and needs. Embracing this change head-on, the two of them work through their newfound feelings and desires as one in a way that surprisingly deepens their love, appreciation, and devotion for one another.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Daddy Steve Rogers/Baby Bucky Barnes [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1520792
Comments: 80
Kudos: 219





	but for you i kinda want to

**Author's Note:**

> All my love to my babies, [Soph](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/sheetsforwhichimmade) and [Maddie](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/maddiewritesstucky). 
> 
> Our boys are into something new and I hope you love it as much as I do.

They’re eating breakfast, a hearty household favorite meal of biscuits and gravy, when Bucky asks his question—

_“Do Daddies have collars too?”_

It’s as if Steve’s brain wants him to process the question slowly, wants him to proceed with caution, on shaky ground with such a combination of words. Steve looks up from the sports section of the newspaper, mid-chew, brow furrowed.

“What’s that?” he asks, voice coming out more softly than he expects, mind seemingly in communication with his mouth to go _slow._ Bucky finishes his bite, picks up his orange juice.

“Do Daddies have collars too?”

Even repeated, Steve still doesn’t process Bucky’s inquiry. He lets himself chew on his bite as he thinks, taking longer than necessary before swallowing. _Do Daddies have collars too?_ He repeats it back to Bucky to ensure he is hearing correctly, a tactic they use frequently in their relationship, and Bucky nods as he takes another bite, dragging his forkful of biscuit through hearty gravy.

“Yeah, like…I have a collar, a few. I wear them for various reasons, when I want to communicate to you that I want a certain kind of attention. Do Daddies wear collars for the same reason?”

Steve puts his fork down as he finally _hears_ what Bucky is saying. It’s…well he isn’t quite sure. Why hasn’t Steve had these thoughts before? He is surprised both by the images that Bucky’s words conjure up in his brain as well as the fact that Bucky is the one who has brought something such as this to his attention. Steve recognizes that his heart rate has picked up, a subtle thrum more present in his bloodstream.

He’s thought again and again, in a multitude of ways, of _Bucky_ in a collar, almost drove himself mad before shakily introducing Bucky to the idea of it. His boy in a collar pulls a different person out of Steve, makes him act like damn near an animal. The possessive desire is always present, is always _right there_ under Steve’s skin, to claim and to clasp.

But he has not once thought of _himself_ wearing a collar.

“What…would you like something like that?”

Steve doesn’t even recognize his voice, is worried those seven words were ones he thought loudly in his own head instead of being spoken directly to Bucky. He doesn’t take the time to properly consider Bucky’s question other than the fact that he is seemingly unable to process such a question. Steve has put down his fork at this point, is watching on as Bucky chews on another mouthful, transparently and openly thinks on Steve’s question.

“Umm, I guess I haven’t really thought about it. But like…I know why I wear my collar most of the time—I want you to make more decisions than you normally do for me, I want to give more of myself over to you. Aren’t there times where you want to do that for me?”

Steve stops breathing for a beat.

“I uh…I’m not…”

“I mean, you can’t _always_ want to be in total control, right? Even you. I know you love what we have, you know I love you being my Daddy. But there are never times where you want to take a back seat, let go a bit?”

Steve doesn’t know what to think. He knows he’s thinking, knows that he’s having thoughts, but he doesn’t know how to regurgitate those thoughts into words and give them back to Bucky. Steve cannot actively remember a time where he wished he didn’t have to be entirely in control of Bucky and himself all at once. Bucky was correct in saying that Steve would never change what they have, loves their dynamic. Would Steve want Bucky to be in charge of their experiences together from time to time?

Steve’s immediate and true answer is yes.

“I trust you,” are the first words out of his mouth, and Bucky’s soft smile feels like sunlight on Steve’s face. “I trust you to make the right decisions, to be strong enough for the both of us.”

Bucky’s smile melts into the gesture that is him reaching forward and lacing his fingers with Steve’s own on the tabletop.

“Steve, I know. But do you want that?”

_Does Steve want that?_

Steve asks for more time, “Lemme think? Give me…give me some time to process?”

“Of course, of course. I was just curious.”

“Well, leave it to you to be _‘just curious’_ and drop something like this in my lap at 8 AM on a Sunday morning…”

* * *

Daddies don’t wear collars.

In the back of his mind, Steve knew that when Bucky asked him at breakfast, knew in that moment he doesn’t know of any Daddy that wears a collar for their Sub. Steve isn’t chin-deep in the BDSM community, but there are people in his life and experiences from his early Dom years that lead him to this answer quite quickly. A quick Google search of _“do daddies wear collars”_ turn up just about the same answer—It is a rare occurrence for a Daddy to be properly collared. There are other symbols of Subs showing ownership over their Daddies _(rings, watches, cuffs, etc.)_ but none as focused and purposeful as a collar.

Steve is going to wear a collar.

He knew his answer when Bucky asked him that morning and he knows it now; he just needed time to get his thoughts together.

All throughout their shared Sunday, it’s the only thing he can think about, a barrage of heady thoughts consuming every minute of his day. First come the images of him in a collar, what he would look like, but those are fleeting and are shoved entirely out of his mind when he thinks about the moment of Bucky putting a collar around Steve’s neck. How would that _feel?_ What would it feel like to have Bucky slip a collar around his neck and clasp it at the back, nimble fingers on his skin in such a way?

Steve isn’t sure he can face something so great, so intense.

How would it feel to give himself over to Bucky in such a way? To let himself go, to not think and let Bucky guide and take and make decisions for the two of them? Could he do that, turn his mind off and let his baby think for him?

This line of thinking hurtles him into the overwhelming thoughts of just how much Bucky gifts Steve with on a daily basis. He sits on the couch with an open book in his lap, staring at the words on the page, and becomes emotional thinking about all the ways Bucky loves him, of all of the ways Bucky opens himself up for his Daddy and for Steve every single day.

When Steve looks up and over at Bucky on his phone at the other end of the couch, thinks and murmurs out loud, “I love you,” Bucky barely lifts his head before whispering back, “I love you too,” without thought.

It’s that easy, that bone-deep, that instinctual.

Steve is going to wear a collar.

* * *

Bucky puts his hand on Steve’s neck the next time they find themselves wrapped up in both each other and the feeling of just that. It’s a night of few words, more sighs and nose nudges than anything else, a night that has gently led them to the point of naked skin, bitten-off whimpers, and Bucky rocking himself in Daddy’s lap, on his cock, with the help of Steve himself.

It’s nothing that is out of the ordinary. Bucky tends to do it a lot, reach for Daddy’s neck for stability or to find a center point. But when Bucky does it this time, a hand pressed into Steve’s chest slipping up to wrap loosely around the front of Steve’s neck, Steve’s vision goes hazy.

It’s intentional. It’s no different than any other move Bucky makes but this one comes with purpose. All Steve can do is gasp, lean forward and press his throat into the feeling of Bucky’s palm against it. His grip on Bucky’s rolling hips will leave marks, no doubt little bruises that Steve will catch Buck pressing his fingers into mindlessly the next day. He tries to say Bucky’s name, makes an attempt to do so, but it’s pitiful and weak and all he can do is sit there and listen to Bucky whisper into his lips—

_“Go on, Daddy…”_

He comes in a burst of blinding pleasure, hand scrambling to hold Bucky’s own to his throat, wrapping their fingers around to column of it together, symbolic and transparent. For the first time in a very long time Steve wonders if what he is feeling are the onset sensations of floating as he watches Bucky come apart in his lap, hand still tight around Steve’s throat, nonsensical slurs of devotion and love falling from Steve’s lips.

“Do you want me to wear a collar?” he asks later, when they’re warm on the inside and the outside, tucked into bed with their limbs still wrapped together. His voice is so soft, so gentle, as he presses his words directly into the skin of Bucky’s collarbones, hand running down the thigh that is wrapped high and tight around his waist. Bucky hums.

“If you want to.”

“No—do you want me to? Would you like it if I did?”

Bucky pulls his head back to look down at Steve, fingers slipping magically through Steve’s hair, movement pulling his chin up to meet Bucky’s gaze. He looks for something, searches Steve eyes for what it is Steve doesn’t know. Reassurance? Acceptance? _Love?_ He keeps his gaze as open as he can for Bucky until the fingers in Steve’s hair run down to his neck.

Steve shivers.

“I…you would…? Would you still be my Daddy?” Bucky breathes, hesitancy apparent in every ounce of his being. It would be a ridiculous question, one Steve would scoff at in any other moment, but not this one.

“I’ll always be your Daddy, Buck.”

Bucky’s fingers press into the side of Steve’s neck, digging into his skin with gentle purpose, stroking with his thumb and forefinger as he contemplates. Steve purses his lips where they rest on Bucky’s chin, tips his own chin higher in order to then press featherlight kisses into Bucky’s lips as he thinks. He’s going to grow addicted to the way Bucky’s hand feels on his neck.

“I think…I think I would like it. I feel like we’re at a point where it’s natural for us to want to change up the dynamic some and…I’ve been thinking about what it would be like for…for me to be the one to tell you what to do.”

Bucky says this for the first time out loud, but Steve has been witnessing subtle signs of this over the past few weeks. Bucky can be bratty, of course he can, can want to give his Daddy a fight, but these signs have been more and more focused, more insistent. Bucky wanting to be on top more, Bucky encouraging Steve verbally more and more, Bucky teasing Steve and drawing sex out—everything comes to focus when Steve hears Bucky say these words.

It comes into focus and then there’s a moment where Steve holds is breath, waits for Bucky to continue thinking out loud.

“Yeah?” is all Steve can think to say dumbly in response, more of a sigh than anything, the feeling of his heart rate kicking up sweeping him away. The hand on Bucky’s thigh goes _tight_ , slips up to cup Bucky’s ass. Bucky coos.

_“Mhmm_ , I’ve…I think I could do it if you wanted me to. I wouldn’t want to…I’d still want you to fuck me. But I think you’d like it if I were in charge, if you wanted to let go for me…”

Steve’s focus _splinters,_ his exhale akin to a whimper, a noise that he doesn’t think he’s made much before this point, one that almost sounds pained. It’s slightly terrifying how much he wants Bucky sometimes, how much he feels Bucky _inside,_ how _“I love you”_ doesn’t equate to what Steve feels in his entire existence. He _does_ want to let go for Bucky, does want to let his boy take control. He isn’t sure of what it entails exactly, is aware that, for once, he won’t know the details of such a thing.

He wants it more than he himself thinks he can grasp.

The hand gripping Bucky’s ass sweeps up his back in a shaky movement, clasps onto the nape of Bucky’s neck as he holds Bucky taut. Both of their demeanors are ones that are brushed with that post-coital bliss, glassy eyes and flushed cheeks, but he’s sure Bucky is feeling the effects of their shared conversation when he sees a bit more black swallow up Bucky’s summer sky eyes. He chooses not to speak just yet, watches on as Bucky watches him, his features. He isn’t sure what he’s waiting for exactly until—

“You wanna be sweet for me, Daddy?”

Steve is consumed by heat, is consumed by the fire of desire. It swallows him up in one go, shows no mercy and takes him whole. He’ll come to note later on that Bucky’s tone, this sweet coddling one with an edge of humiliation, is one he’s learned right from his own mouth, damn him. But in this moment, this fiery one that plants the seed of something _different,_ something _special,_ into the garden that is their love and devotion, all Steve can do it whine into Bucky’s open-mouthed grin and confirm—

“Wanna be sweet for you, sugar…”

* * *

Bucky’s feet are in Steve’s lap, stretched out on the couch as they bask and quite literally roll around in that monotonous lazy feel of after work and school and before dinner. Steve’s thumbs are digging into the arch of Bucky’s naked foot when Bucky mumbles, “Have you ever floated before?”

Steve’s fingers only twitch in the smallest of ways, just as the corner of his mouth does.

He looks over at Bucky, lips quirking up even more as he’s met with a somewhat playful face, half-lidded eyes and a mirrored curl of the lip. Steve wants to eat Bucky right up, mischievous softness and all. He lets his thumbs slip and press against the sole of Bucky’s foot, the arch, the ball, as he gathers his thoughts in his head. He answers with little thought first.

“I have, but…but not in the way that you do.”

Bucky barely waits to ask his follow-up question of, “What do you mean?”

Steve switches to the other foot, gives the top of Bucky’s left one a kiss before picking up the right. Has he never discussed this with Bucky before?

“Sometimes when we’re intimate and when things are intense, I can feel myself start to slip,” he explains in a velvet-soft voice, a casual enough one. “Sometimes I can get very wrapped up in my head when we have sex. Sometimes all I can think about is you and making you feel good and how incredibly important it is that I bring you pleasure and love on you the way that you deserve.”

When he looks up at Bucky’s face, Steve is met with a gaze he can’t quite interpret. It’s one that is calculating, one that is fond, one that is heated. He smiles softly at Bucky, continues working what Bucky claims is _“magic”_ on his feet. When Bucky doesn’t respond with other inquiries or words Steve continues in more of a hushed tone than he intends for it to be.

“Sometimes it’s like…it’s like I feel you inside of me, like I feel like we’re…not the _same_ person but that we’re genuinely _one_. Sometimes things go a bit quiet and all I can hear is you and the sounds you make and…and all I am sensitive to is you and your body’s reactions to what I’m putting it through. You are all I can see, hear, smell, _feel—_ you become everything.”

Steve’s words of devotion are met with silence but not one that makes Steve feel uncomfortable in any way. It is a charged silence, one where, even though Steve’s eyes are looking down where his hands work, he can feel Bucky’s own eyes on him, his gaze a physical force to be reckoned with.

_“Holy…_ holy shit, Steve,” Bucky starts with a tiny chuckle, one that is laced with disbelief and enough of it to have Steve chuckling right alongside Bucky.

“What?”

“That’s…you really feel that way?”

Steve hums, gathers both of Bucky’s feet into his lap after giving his heel one last good squeeze.

“Not every time but yeah—I can get to feelin’ that way easy around you, sugar. You gotta know that by now,” Steve chides in a gentle voice, grin growing as color flushes Bucky’s cheeks, as he tucks his chin, his ear into his shoulder in a move he tends to do when he’s caught off guard with flattery. He reaches a hand forward to squeeze tight at Bucky’s leg just above his knee, the resulting melodic giggle and wiggle making Steve’s heart soar. When Bucky settles, he’s turned on his side more, a bit more curled up. It makes him seem more vulnerable and sweeter when he speaks.

“But…but to only see _me_ and to…to only want to make me feel good? That’s… _shit_ I don’t know—that’s hard to believe.”

Steve admits it is hard to wrap one’s mind around, focusing solely on one person for any given amount of time, but Steve is quick to make such a concept relatable to Bucky.

“Buck, what do you think about when you float?”

Bucky doesn’t speak right away, but he does react, much to Steve’s delight. His grin gets a bit dopier, turns laxer from cheek to cheek. His eyes go soft around the corners as he looks up at Steve, his fingers fidgeting together lazily on his belly, on top of his hoodie.

“Think about how much I love my Daddy,” is what Bucky murmurs and, _god bless it,_ Steve knows this conversation is an important one to have but he wants nothing more than to pull this boy into his lap and hold him tight.

“See?” Steve hums. “We both think about how much we love each other, just feels different for us both—I get more _in_ my head and you get more _out_ of your head.”

If the look on Bucky’s face didn’t give away just what he’s thinking and feeling, the way he pulls himself up to sit closer to Steve does. It’s something that Steve adores about Bucky, something that Steve thinks is one of Bucky’s most precious features—he wants to be _physically_ close to Steve when he says things that make him feel _emotionally_ close to Steve.

He leans his shoulder against the back of the couch, tucks his head bashfully as his fingers reach to fidget with the hem of Steve’s t-shirt.

“Do you think we’ll feel the way the way the other feels if we…when we switch things up?”

It’s a good question, a valid one, but not one Steve can answer.

“M’not sure,” he mumbles, hands reaching for Bucky’s own. “I know we’ll feel somethin’ but I don’t know if it will be anything we’ve ever experienced before. This will be all brand new for us, won’t it?”

It’s a frightening thing to say out loud but it’s one that brings a smirk to both men’s faces, that has Bucky biting his bottom lip to stop the giggle Steve wants so badly to bless his ears.

“Seems like we’ll be learning together, at the same time now right, Daddy?”

Steve’s smirk grows, a sideways grin as his eyes drink Bucky’s playful demeanor. He can’t help but grab for Bucky’s twiddling thumbs, can’t help but bring them up to his lips and press a set of gentle kisses against a few knuckles.

“Yeah, Buck— together. I guess we’ve still got a lot to learn…”

* * *

“Wanna…wanna know what you look like when you go sweet, what a f-floaty face looks like…”

It’s a valid request, more than valid. Steve simply doesn’t expect it when he’s got Bucky’s creamy thighs wrapped high and tight around his waist, when he’s tangled up in and holding Bucky’s body in the most apt position to fuck into Bucky the way he wants to.

His groan echoes off their bedroom walls even with his face tucked into Bucky’s neck.

“Buck,” he gasps, tries, “What’re you doin’ to me, baby?”

Bucky chooses not to respond to his Daddy and instead makes the decision to run the lips on Steve’s shoulder, up to the hinge up his jaw. Steve’s hips stutter, punch forward even though his cock is encased fully in the heat that is Bucky’s sweet boy pussy, when Bucky sucks on Steve’s skin with a moan.

“Wanna know what my Daddy looks like when I’m sweet on him, when all he can think about is _me and my pussy_ ,” Bucky moans directly into Steve’s ear, his fingers running up and through Steve’s hair, giving it a tug for good measure. He’s inside of Bucky, is fucking Bucky’s pussy, dick all wet with him, and Steve feels his balls tighten up and grow achy immediately upon hearing Bucky’s words.

_“Fuck,_ Bucky. Jesus fucking Christ,” is all Steve can grunt out into Bucky’s skin, grip on his ass cheek, tip of his hips, strengthening as Steve pulls his own hips back to fuck into Bucky with unwavering vigor. The sound of their skin smacking together bounces around aimlessly in Steve’s skull, as do Bucky’s pretty fucked-out noises, as do his own animalistic exhales and grunts.

“You gonna show me, Daddy? Gonna show me what that face looks like?” Bucky asks and Steve is nodding his head before he can stop himself, _grinding_ his hips on the curve of Bucky’s ass tight enough that the younger whimpers, mouth hung open, before Steve digs his knees into the mattress.

“C’mere, _up,”_ Steve bites out, pulling his achy cock from its favorite place with a _pop_ , Bucky’s whimpers continuing to fall as Steve pulls him from his spot on the bed. Bucky tries to object, attempts to _“Daddy”_ Steve into stopping and talking but Steve is impatient, wants his dick to be all warm and wet again. It’s such a sweet moment when Bucky’s noises suddenly cease, when he can see where Steve is so determined to make his way to.

_The mirror._

He’s pushy, is heated as he takes Bucky’s hand in his and pulls him to stand in front of the mirror that is hung just inside their closet. Steve doesn’t mind in the slightest if he seems frantic, if he seems more than a tad manic when he reaches for Bucky’s hips, pulls Bucky’s body in front of his own, kicks his legs open.

“C’mon, lemme show you the face I know best,” Steve breathes into the skin of Bucky’s jaw before digging his teeth into the skin just below his ear, taking his cock in hand and guiding it back past Bucky’s rim, back into that waiting pussy. Bucky’s gasp, his whine, is the most pleasing of music to Steve’s ears, but nothing can compare to the way Bucky looks directly into the mirror, over his shoulder at right at his Daddy.

_“Daddy…”_

“Mhmm yeah, Buck. _Goddamn,_ look at you, look how fuckin’ good you look takin’ your Daddy the way you were made to.”

Bucky Barnes is perfection, is an angel, is the sweetest thing Steve has ever set eyes on. He is the light of Steve’s life, is his purpose for living, is the only person Steve will love for the rest of his time on this earth. Steve firmly believes that Bucky was crafted and created just for Steve, that he went through all of the nonsense and bullshit that he has in his life just to get to Bucky. Just to be Bucky’s—

_“Daddy…”_

His fingers splay where they lay across Bucky’s stomach, groaning uninhibitedly as he takes his time to properly dig his cock into that familiar heat, reveling in the way Bucky’s body just…makes room for Steve, welcomes Steve. He dips his knees a bit to get a proper roll, a proper grind up and into the curve of Bucky’s ass, balls-deep. Bucky squeals, scrambles, is in need of guidance and Steve provides, grasps Bucky’s hand in his unoccupied one and places them on the mirror in front of them gently.

“You wanna know what _goin’ sweet_ on a face looks like? What fucked-out looks like on someone’s face? Huh?” Steve presses, voice gentle and deep but actions and movement gutting as he pulls his cock back and then forward and again, picking up pace as he waits for an answer. When he doesn’t get one, he brings the hand not on Bucky’s belly under Bucky’s arm, brings his fingers up to wrap tautly around the front of Bucky’s throat.

“Look at’chu, Buck. You think your Daddy don’t make you look like this every time you let him inside, precious?”

The hand around Bucky’s throat shakes him around a bit, a tight movement that brings him back down to earth just enough to answer, process, to see. Steve knows his cock has to be nudging into Bucky’s sweet spot on every thrust in. He is aware that Bucky won’t last long given the circumstances, given the treatment of his bitty hole being fucked into as roughly as it is.

One look at Bucky’s pretty dick tells Steve just that, angry and red and slick. Steve coos as he looks down at it in the mirror, hand slipping down to run his fingers across it, dick jumping with the force of Steve’s thrusts.

“S’me,” Bucky cries and Steve growls low in his throat, the connection made making Steve’s head swim. His arm winds tight around Bucky’s middle, the one around his throat ever-present, and Steve bites his words out into Bucky’s jaw as he speaks, as he fucks them both closer to their climax.

“Yeah, look _look_ , Bucky. There ya go, y’see that? You see that sweet boy slippin’?”

Steve doesn’t expect an answer, not at this point. Bucky sputters with every breath that is forced from his lungs with each of Steve’s thrusts, and Steve can’t stop his own noises as he watches Bucky _watch himself_ get taken apart, bit by bit.

“I see a sweet boy who’s letting his Daddy use him, who’s letting his Daddy have him for all he’s worth,” Steve whispers into Bucky’s ear, wanting to make sure his voice can be heard over the _smack_ of Steve’s hips and the _slurp_ of Bucky’s ass. Steve’s hand comes up to smack tightly at Bucky’s cheek, to squeeze at his jaw.

“It’s always in the eyes. Every time you start to get foggy, you start to get unfocused, I know I got’chu.”

_“Daddy…Daddy I’m gonna—”_

“Then it’s this mouth, _a fuckin’ sin._ You can’t close it when you start goin’ sweet on me, it’s as if you want your Daddy to use that too, as if you want him to hear every pretty noise that comes out of it, just for him.”

Steve sticks a few fingers between Bucky’s lips to drive the point home, watches in the mirror as Bucky sputters around them, sucks them down with a moan and a whine as he doesn’t take his eyes away from Steve’s own. _Fuck._

“When your eyes roll, when you fight to keep ‘em open and— _there it is, yeah—_ I know you’re close, close to comin’ and close to goin’ a bit sweet.”

Steve is close himself. He feels like his skin is trembling where it’s stretched over his limbs, hot and sensitive, like every inch of his body aches to be touching Bucky’s own. He watches in the mirror as spit trickles out the corner of Bucky’s mouth full of fingers, as Bucky makes such a valiant effort at keeping his eyes open to match his Daddy’s own.

“This is what I know, Buck—this face right here,” Steve gasps into Bucky’s cheek, forefinger and thumb digging into his boy’s sweet cheeks, shaking his handful and watching Bucky’s reaction of a sob and a keen. Steve needs to focus, needs to stay present, but all he wants to do is run his mouth about how good Bucky’s body feels, how good his boy pussy feels eating at its Daddy’s cock. Bucky is a marvel, lets Steve have his way with his body each and every time, ass so tight, so fucking good for his Daddy.

But it’s the face for Steve. It’s always the face.

“You’re gonna make your Daddy’s face look like this?”

_“Daddy!_ Wanna make…yeah, wanna—”

“You gonna make your Daddy’s face look as fucked-out as this one right here?”

Steve is going to come. He can’t help it the very second he verbalizes his thoughts, the thought of Bucky being his baby, his boy, but of _taking charge_. He frantically adjusts his grip, a hand flying down to Bucky’s dick, his other reaching for and digging into Bucky’s hair, _pulling._

“Come. Come on, Buck. You come thinkin’ about takin’ charge of your Daddy of—”

“Daddy… _Daddy_ , fu-uck oh—”

“Come thinkin’ about makin’ your Daddy go sweet, tellin’ him what to do, teasing him, makin’ him beg, makin’ his face look like _this,_ makin’ him—”

Steve can barely hold them up, can barely keep Bucky and himself from collapsing to the floor in a heap of thrashes and gasps, has to wrap another arm around Bucky’s middle to keep them stable. His orgasm is _pulled_ from his body, straight from his soul and out his dick, drags on and on as he lets Bucky’s chants of Steve’s name and his title ring in his ears and fill up his chest, his heart.

Steve is always certain of one thing as he comes, that being how in love he is with Bucky, but this time around two things settle into his mind as he comes down from his shared orgasm.

Steve loves Bucky and Steve is going to wear that collar.

* * *

“Maybe something like this would better suit your needs?”

Slim and silver, incredibly thin, chains linked together so delicately it makes Steve’s chest ache as he looks down at it draped across the saleswoman’s fingers. Bucky’s presence, the constant feeling of warmth within now pressed against his side, ever-present. An arm winds behind Steve’s back, nimble fingers digging into his opposite hip, grounding.

“I think something more…purposeful might be best for us. Maybe less…less like a piece of jewelry? This is something that will be used in private, nothing that will leave the house.”

Steve has never heard Bucky sound so determined, speak with such unwavering strength, and here he stands in this shop speaking and guiding this woman about the kind of collar he wants to see his Daddy in. He feels in his core, under his skin, that this is different, that this is a special kind of moment, that they’ll be different after the next half-hour. Steve isn’t worried, isn’t frightened by this unknown change; he welcomes it.

Steve smiles softly at the saleswoman as she nods her head in what seems like understanding, eyes twinkling as she looks between the two of them.

“Let me gather a few options that may be what you are wanting. One moment.”

A long pull on his hip given by Bucky’s fingers the moment the saleswoman turns her back has Steve’s insides burning, has him turning to peer down at Bucky as he too turns to look up at Steve. He sighs, catches his breath as he gets lost in June sky eyes, brushes Bucky’s hair back from his forehead, wide palm slipping down the curve of his scalp.

“How you doin’, Buck?” he murmurs, arm falling around Bucky’s shoulder, hand curling around the opposite shoulder as he tucks the younger up under his side more. Bucky heaves out a hefty breath, one that is laced with what Steve knows wants to become a squeal or a giggle. Steve wants to lick it out of the inside of Bucky’s mouth.

“M’good,” is what Bucky mumbles into Steve’s ear as he dips his head and brushes his lips across the top of Bucky’s cheekbone.

“How you really doin’, sugar?”

A few beats of silence pass.

“M’fuckin’ losin’ it, Steve.”

This time they can’t help but share a laugh, a rush of bubbly noises, a release of built-up tension as Steve pulls Bucky into his side for another hug, his chuckle turning into a purr, presses it right into Bucky’s temple.

_“God,_ wanna eat you up right here, Buck. _Fuck._ Can’t believe what hearing you assert yourself is doin’ to me, and it havin’ to do with you pickin’ a collar out for your Daddy? Fucking hell, baby…”

Bucky wiggles where he stands, lets his own lips press into the hinge of Steve’s jaw so he can be sure and hear the whine Bucky lets out.

_“Steve,_ Steve I’m…I’m doing okay, Daddy?”

“Oh, baby you’re doin’ so well, beautiful. You’re perfect, Buck,” Steve is quick to reassure, words jumbled together in a rush of a noise because of how badly he wants to get rid of any trace amounts of self-doubt Bucky might have. “You keep trusting yourself.”

When the saleswoman returns, she is carrying four different boxes, the compartments alone seemingly elegant and luxurious. They’re rectangular and sleek, all the same size, all wrapped in stretched black satin. Steve feels his heart kick up into his throat at seeing them and he wants to poke fun at himself for losing some function of his brain over something so simple.

_“But it’s not something ‘simple’,”_ he reminds himself as he faces forward again, hand slipping down to the small of Bucky’s back.

“Alright, I think I might have something for you here,” the saleswoman announces gently, placing the boxes onto the countertop separating them in a pleasing order, one by one. Once they’re all laid out, she reaches for the first box in the lineup, the one on their left. She opens it and inside lies a slim velvet collar, maroon in color, silver metal ring bringing the two pieces together at the front. Steve can tell that it’s more along the lines of what Bucky had in mind by the way his fingers immediately reach out to touch it, by the way he hums.

_“Hmm,_ maybe…I’m not sure the ring is necessary,” Bucky thinks out loud, glancing up at Steve for confirmation. Steve agrees, knows they aren’t ready for anything that requires that kind of hardware.

“Yeah, maybe not just yet.”

The saleswoman nods her head, closes the box, reaches for the second. She grabs a hold of it and then stops herself, pulls her hand back.

“You know, I should have brought this one out first. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

She reaches for the third box, turns it towards the two of them, opens it and—

Steve’s hand on Bucky’s back instinctively _squeezes,_ grip forcing his hand to slide to Bucky’s hip, and Bucky’s own fingers twitch where they rest on the counter.

“Yeah, yes umm…yes.”

The collar in the box the saleswoman is holding is somehow simple yet profound. It’s maybe as wide as the tip of Steve’s thumb, black leather, nothing fancy. There are no rings or studs or diamonds, only the silver buckle and the ring to curl and clasp the collar together. It is masculine and breathtaking and Steve feels like it’s _his_ the moment he sets eyes on it.

He’s grateful Bucky is the one to speak first.

“Yes?” the saleswoman asks, excitement in her voice for her assumptions being correct. “I…I quite agree. It’s very fitting for the two of you, _for him_ , simple and elegant, classic.” 

Steve wants to put it on, wants to look in a mirror and see himself wearing it. He wants _Bucky_ to put it on him, wants Bucky’s hands on him in such a brand new yet familiar way. He turns his head, gives Bucky’s forehead a simple kiss because words are too hard in this moment, but he does manage a strong, “That’ll be the one then.” The saleswoman’s smile grows upon hearing Bucky’s words and then she’s lifting the collar from the box, stretching her arm out to hand it over to Bucky.

Steve is going to need to be wheeled out of here.

Seeing the collar in the cushioned box was one thing but seeing it in Bucky’s hands takes the tightness in Steve’s chest and now pants to an entirely different level of arousal. Steve tries to devalue the situation, what he is seeing, in order to not be as affected by it, but it is no use.

_It’s just a piece of leather that Bucky is holding, that’s it, that’s all it is._

It’s pointless. Steve looks down at Bucky’s hands, at his fingers as they dance over the leather of Steve’s brand-new collar, and Steve _yearns._ He yearns for his partner even as he stands beside him here, he yearns to give himself over to Bucky in a way he never has before, he yearns to feel that collar around his neck. Bucky’s fingers look almost ethereal and stark against the material and color of the collar and in Steve’s brain that adds to the innocence and pureness of Bucky, of this moment, of this relationship.

And then Bucky is tilting his head, is looking up at his Daddy, excitement and pride lighting up his features, and Steve might melt through the floor he’s so in love.

“This one?” Bucky asks for reassurance again and Steve is nothing but a provider, will always provide for his baby.

“Yeah, sugar—I think that’s the one.”

“Beautiful,” the saleswoman confirms as Bucky hands the collar back over to her, gentle as ever. “Will you be browsing for anything else or shall I ring you up?”

Steve answers her before Bucky has the chance to speak up.

“We’ll be browsing, thank you.”

The tops of Bucky’s cheekbones flare up, go a bit rosy at Steve’s assertiveness and the connotation of his words even though they just spent the past half-hour with this woman purchasing a collar and are standing in a _sex shop_ of all places.

“Perfect. I’ll ring you up when you’re ready,” is all the saleswoman says before Steve is taking Bucky’s hand in his and pulling him away from the counter and into the thick of the store, weaving between a few aisles, away from peering eyes. 

“Steve? What…what else are you buying?”

Bucky’s voice is meek, quiet. He’s nervous, maybe uncomfortable, and Steve can’t stand it anymore, might melt through the floor or go up in flames right where he stands. He uses his grip and leverage on Bucky’s hand to drag the younger man flush against his chest, to pull him in tight enough to cup his jaw in two hands, to tip his mouth up to meet Steve’s.

He can’t do anything, nor does he want to do anything about, the frankly _obscene_ moan he pours into Bucky’s open mouth, a noise that Bucky drinks up in an instant. It’s highly inappropriate albeit understandable given their current predicament and the setting for said predicament, but Steve parts his lips against Bucky’s, plush and pliant, runs his tongue along the curve of that damn bottom lip. Steve is surprised there is no objection on Bucky’s part, moan turning into a somewhat amused hum when he feels Bucky’s hands on his chest go tight, feels him grab at the meat of Steve’s pecs.

When the two of them pull back with a heave of a gasp, they barely part, breathing each other in, taking in the other. Steve runs his thumbs along Bucky’s sharp cheekbones, gaze flicking between those eyes that feel like home, before dipping his mouth and giving Bucky a few more wet chaste kisses.

“I love you,” Steve whispers when he pulls away for the second time, brushes his nose against the line of Bucky’s own. “I love you _so much.”_

Bucky looks up at Steve with a dangerous pair of eyes, a look that always makes Steve want to lay the world at Bucky’s feet, one that never fails to make Steve’s heart beat a little faster.

_“Steve,”_ he starts, word breathed right into Steve’s mouth. “Daddy, take…take me home.”

Steve’s dick feels heavy in his pants, more than a bit stiff between his legs, and he lets his fingers meander from Bucky’s jaw back and into his hair. He tugs on it, tips Bucky’s head even further back with the force of that slow movement alone, and he has to close his eyes momentarily when Bucky _whines_ prettily into his lips. So open, _so good,_ just wants to be so sweet for his Daddy.

Steve wants to take him apart right here for the whole world to witness.

_“Buck,_ baby you’re crazy if you think I’m not gonna take full advantage of gettin’ you into one of these stores with me, sugar. C’mon—lemme treat you. Let me treat us.”

Bucky’s next few breaths are open-mouthed, arguably pants, and Steve wonders if he’s gone too far, if he’s losing Bucky to sweet cotton candy clouds right where they stand. He brings his hands down Bucky’s neck, unclenches his fingers, squeezes at his shoulders.

“You’ve never wanted to buy somethin’ sexy? New plug? A cock ring? Something pretty or some handcuffs?”

“Steve, I don’t know what more than half of the shit in this store is.”

Steve can’t help but tip his face up to the ceiling when he laughs, a hearty noise as he wraps his arms around Bucky’s neck, smacks some kisses onto Bucky’s forehead. Such a joy, this boy is.

“Well, let your Daddy teach you a thing or two. C’mon…”

Steve doesn’t know why seeing Bucky look through displays of sex toys wouldn’t be an erotic experience for his Daddy. Steve is a fool for not thinking that watching Bucky gracefully making his way through shelves of a wide arrays of handcuffs and plugs and dildos and cock rings wouldn’t make Steve grow hungrier and hungrier.

“What about…what about this one, Daddy?” Bucky asks, fingers tickling the box of a vibrating plug, simple and black. Steve’s brain fogs over in arousal so heavily he almost has to physically shake his head to rid him of such a mess.

“This one is kinda cute _…”_ Bucky sheepishly murmurs in reference to a pretty silver plug, red heart nestled at the base. Steve wants to make Bucky bend over that back counter and put it deep between those cheeks in that exact moment. Steve simply sticks out his hand, kicks his fingers back, presses, “Give it here, baby.”

“Do you have one of…one of these?” Bucky asks as he randomly chooses and then shows Steve a cock ring, leather and once again black, looking like it was created to match the collar Bucky had chosen for him. Steve takes it in hand and adds it to the number of things in his arms, back of his neck tingly, doesn’t speak a word.

“Wait but…what do you use it for? It’s like…you use it to stay hard, right?”

“Yeah, Buck. You use it to make it harder to come. You know how I grab a hold’a your balls when you’re about to come and I haven’t said you can? Or when I wanna be a little mean and hold you off? This is the same thing.”

The look Bucky gave Steve, the understanding flush of his cheeks and the mischievous sparkle in his eye, had Steve smirking, had him reaching to squeeze at Bucky’s hip simply because he wasn’t sure of what else to do in such a moment.

“Yeah, we should get one of those.”

It is as they are walking back towards the front counter, Steve’s arm full of a plethora of toys, where Bucky surprises him the most. Steve sees it before Bucky does, the way his eyes are drawn to the display and the way he unintentionally slows his steps down. Steve slows down with him though, his own heart stopping short of a handful of beats.

“You…you like this?” Steve whispers after a few seconds of standing in front of the wide array of leather bondage gear. It’s clear the items they stand before are of great luxury, are well-crafted and expensive. They are items that immediately pull Steve in, that have him wishing to see them grace Bucky’s skin, his limbs, his body. Bucky reaches for Steve’s empty hand, squeezes at his fingers, and says—

“I want this.”

Bucky has yet to say something so confidently, has yet to tell Steve with determination that he wants to purchase something. Steve nods his head, squeezes Bucky’s fingers back, gives that immediate reassurance.

“Yeah, baby. A’course. Which ones?”

“I…I don’t know. I don’t know when we’d use them or…or who would use them but… _Steve.”_

“Yeah, Buck I know.”

Bucky wants the works. Steve runs down the list: handcuffs, thigh cuffs, ankle cuffs, belt, restraints, collar. Steve feels like he has one toe tethered to the earth as Bucky keeps saying yes to things, as the image of Bucky wearing each piece scaffolds and builds into one masterpiece that blesses Steve’s mind and leaves him breathless, staring down at Bucky as Bucky looks up at him.

“Let’s get out of here…”

When they leave the store an hour later, a rather large unmarked bag in hand, the two of them look and feel rather dazed. The bag is heavy in Steve’s grip, as is the strain and ache in his balls and the pull in his chest. He has to remind himself multiple times throughout their time of checkout to focus, _to pay attention_ , because the quicker he does that, the quicker they can go home. And home is where he can have Bucky, is where he can lay Bucky out and make love to him.

And that’s exactly what he intends to do the moment they walk through the door.

* * *

_“Maybe…maybe we should have you put it on in more of a relaxed situation? Maybe we should just…have you put it on to see what it’s like? No expectation of sex?”_

Bucky’s proposition was one Steve thought was a perfectly reasonable one. It was logical, made sense in Steve’s clear and fog-free mind. It has been weeks since they purchased his collar and since then they haven’t gotten it out, haven’t put it to any use. Steve would like to think it’s because their everyday life has taken up most of their time, Steve’s late nights at work and Bucky’s school, but he can’t lie—part of this delay has to do with his hesitancies.

For the first time in their relationship, Steve feels like he has very little control over the situation, over what happens between him and Bucky. He fully acknowledges that the moment he says he is ready to have Bucky put that collar around his neck, is the moment his control ends.

_“Bucky is in control; I am in charge.”_

These are words he has uttered once before, that have crossed his mind hundreds, if not thousands of times, yet he finds himself hesitant. He will no longer be in charge, no longer make decisions; he will shift all of those responsibilities to Bucky. He knows his control will not end, just as he’s certain Bucky will not make him feel abandoned in a moment so salient, but it frightens him nonetheless. It takes Steve this long to admit this is a moment where he’s going to have to jump, where he’s going to have to go into it with trust in himself, his Bucky, and their relationship.

He’s ready for Bucky to be in charge.

_“Yeah, Buck that’s…we should try that out…”_

* * *

Steve lies on the bed, naked all but his briefs, dark material straining around his erection, stomach trembling as he takes a deep breath just as he hears Bucky remind him to do so. That’s easy, he can do that, inhale and exhale. As he does so though, as he expands his lungs to their fullest, it makes the heavy weight of the collar around the base of his neck feel immense in weight.

It’s almost daunting, almost overwhelming, but it brings him great pleasure.

Bucky hums into his ear, presses pillow-soft kisses into Steve’s cheek, his jaw, lets his hand run its fingers up Steve’s chest to the collar. He’s sidled in close to Steve’s side and he too is naked all but his underwear, skin warm and pleasant like a cozy fire. His leg is tossed over Steve’s thigh, is curled in between Steve’s spread ones. Steve’s arm curls around Bucky’s back, his waist, fingers pressing into the skin of his side, holding on for dear life.

Steve can feel Bucky’s dick pressed against his side, hot and rock-hard. He aches to touch Bucky there.

“I’ve never heard you so quiet. You sure you’re okay?” Bucky breathes, fingers curling under the collar to seemingly ensure it isn’t too tight against the fragile skin of his Daddy’s neck. Steve knows it’s simply an excuse Bucky is using to touch the collar more, to feel it around Steve’s neck, to marvel at it. He pulls his arm tight around Bucky’s body, turns his head to press his lips into any part of Bucky he can get.

“Yeah, I’m…m’just thinkin’.”

“Yeah?” Bucky chuckles, _chuckles,_ right into Steve’s cheek and goddamn isn’t that somethin’? “What are you thinkin’ about?”

What a loaded question. What is Steve thinking about? Is he having thoughts or are these merely feelings at this point? He feels like he’s a single mass of sensation, of _feeling,_ like he’s been taken out of his head and has been given the opportunity to just _be._

“I…I don’t know, Buck. I’m feelin’ a lot. I’ve never felt like this before.”

Bucky whines upon hearing Steve’s words, rubs his body into Steve’s as if he has no control over it, presses his lips into Steve’s jaw.

“That’s okay, Daddy—that’s okay.”

“It’s…it’s different’ isn’t it, sugar? You feel different?”

Steve doesn’t mean for his voice to sound so delicate, so needy, but Bucky picks his words up right where they lay, holds them close to his heart with an immediate nod of his head.

“It… _god_ , Steve. It feels so different. I didn’t think I would feel so much looking at you like this.”

Steve _aches._ His heart aches, his balls ache, his dick aches. It’s an ache that is pleasurable, is other-worldly, one that only grows when Bucky himself moans softly, slips down his Daddy’s body slightly. When his lips press into the skin of Steve’s collarbone, Steve’s breathing goes ragged immediately. The featherlight kisses Bucky presses there below the collar are heavy with meaning, Steve knows this; he may need to interpret that meaning at another time.

Steve tips his chin when Bucky’s mouth moves, when it presses wet open-mouthed kisses into Steve’s neck, at his pulse point. His heart hammers against his chest, Bucky’s mouth feeling as if it’s on his cock he’s so sensitive. When a noise of need slips between Steve’s lips, Bucky moans in response, grapples with one hand at Steve’s pec.

“I want so many things when I see you like this, Daddy. So many different things. That’s okay, right? We’re still…we’re still us?”

Steve huffs as he wraps his arms tight around Bucky’s lithe form, reaches and tugs Bucky on top of him in the way he would a ragdoll, in the way he knows they both want. Steve doesn’t want to be anything but the closest he can possibly be to Bucky when he’s saying such heartfelt things. Bucky whimpers, naturally adjusts somewhat diagonal across Steve’s body. He keeps his lips at his Daddy’s neck as if he can’t bear the thought of being away from that collar and Steve’s cock pulses in his briefs. Steve’s got Bucky where he wants, right on top of him, flush against his skin, but he’s hungry and wants more. He always wants more.

“A’course that’s alright, babylove. Of course. It’s okay to want things we’ve never tried before or…or things you’ve never wanted before. Even like this I’m…m’still your Daddy.”

Steve wishes to applaud himself and the effort it takes to speak those guiding and supportive words at the same time Bucky rolls his little body into Steve’s own, licks at his neck, suckles on the skin of it. The heat under Steve’s skin, this newfound desire, thrums heavily and ratchets up significantly now that Bucky is flush against the line of Steve’s body. With each precious kiss Bucky presses into Steve’s neck, into the collar, he lets out an equally heated and desperate noise.

“You’ll always be my Daddy?” Bucky asks and without pause, reservation, hesitation, Steve gives Bucky the same answer he will until the end of time—

“Yeah, Buck—I’ll always be your Daddy.”

Steve’s eyelids flutter closed when he hears Bucky’s sob, as he gives into this feeling, as he memorizes it to think back on later: his boy in his arms, skin pressed against skin, _heat,_ arousal rubbing against arousal, collar heavy on his neck, Bucky’s lips insistent and hungry on his skin. One moment the two of them are laying there in an atmosphere thick with this newfound arousal, steady and calm, and the next moment they’re hungrier than they’ve ever been in their lives, as if nothing will satiate them.

It’s syrupy and slow, a feeling that creeps like falling honey down the back of Steve’s neck, but it has a hectic tinge to it.

“I wanna tell my Daddy what to do,” Bucky tells him, presses his whisper into Steve’s ear like it’s a secret. Steve’s breaths and words get tangled up in his throat.

“Wanna tell my Daddy what to do,” Bucky whines again, confident as he repeats it in a louder voice, rubbing his confined dick against the curve of his Daddy’s belly as he does so. This time Steve does moan, reaches for Bucky’s thigh, finding the crook of his knee and pulling his leg up and around Steve’s waist. Bucky is a wound-up ball of arousal, Steve can feel it, feel that Bucky isn’t sure what to quite do with all of his emotions.

“Yeah? What else, what else you wanna make your Daddy do?”

Steve is beginning to wonder if they’ll be able to stay true to Bucky’s proposition of abstaining from sex during this experience. With the way their conversation is headed and the way they’re rubbing off on each other, there’s no way they’re not going to make each other come somehow, no way they can walk away from this without sharing an orgasm to solidify their shared arousal.

“Wanna use my Daddy,” Bucky whispers into Steve’s cheek, lips slick and surely cherry red. Steve moans, an assault of images of just what Bucky using his Daddy could look like filtering through his brain at rapid fire, a hot and heavy barrage.

“Wanna use my Daddy and his fat cock, wanna…wanna fuck myself on it the way I want to, wanna use it like a toy.”

Steve’s eyelids drop as he fights to keep them open. Bucky’s lips find his then, finds Daddy’s slack mouth and takes full advantage of it, licks into it like he owns it, sucks on Steve’s bottom lip. Steve can barely keep up, can barely purse his lips and kiss Bucky back, not with Bucky’s words ringing in his head, bouncing around aimlessly the way that they are.

“Wanna tell my Daddy that he _can’t_ come, that—”

_“Fuck_ , baby.”

“—that he can only come when I say, when I’m done, when _I_ want it.”

The hand on Bucky’s thigh sweeps up to his ass, meets his other palm and kneads tightly at Bucky’s ass cheeks, gripping and squeezing with a vengeance. Bucky mewls into Steve’s mouth, _so pretty,_ lets his Daddy be more than a little rough with him. The way they are positioned, it’s difficult for Steve to rub his dick off on Bucky’s own, but he is able to gain some friction, moans when he finds it in Bucky’s thigh.

“More,” he presses with a groan that is received with a whimper. “Tell me more.”

“Wanna have my Daddy spend hours makin’ me feel good, eating me out, fucking me the way I want him to,” Bucky murmurs without pause, still listening to his Daddy like a good boy. “Wanna make him eat me out, eat at this pussy, suck me off, until I tell him to stop.”

Steve’s mouth waters at the same time his dick jumps in his briefs, strains against the fabric pitifully. Bucky’s fingers on his collar help him feel more grounded, surprisingly help him feel more centered and focused. He turns his head to the side, seeks out Bucky’s lips as his fingers continue to press and pull at Bucky’s ass, mouths crashing together in a flurry of a movement. Their shared kisses are wet, are heavy and slick, working their mouths together in practiced tandem. Bucky doesn’t bother pulling back when he speaks next, mumbles right into Steve’s own mouth.

“Wanna make my Daddy _beg_ me to let him come.”

_“Yeah?_ You gonna make your Daddy beg to fill that boy pussy up?”

Bucky whines, rubs his pretty dick off on Steve’s torso as he does so, Steve able to feel the strain of Bucky’s muscles underneath his hands with each movement. When Bucky whimpers, frustrated that he can’t rub off the way he wants to, Steve does his part to help, pulls Bucky into him, uses his grip on Bucky’s ass to do so.

_“Yeah,_ yeah I’m gonna…m’gonna make my Daddy beg to have this pussy, to fuck it, to fill it full’a his Daddy come.”

Bucky’s got a hold of Steve’s collar now, wraps a few fingers around it, tugs on it as he speaks, holds it tight in his grip. Steve’s groan is startling to the both of them, erupts out of his throat as his arousal reaches a level he can no longer grasp, ratchets up to the unknown. Bucky’s never touched him like this, has rarely handled him with such rugged edge. He holds onto Bucky for dear life, moves a hand down to bring Bucky’s thigh back up to lay across Steve’s dick, to show it blessed friction once more.

“Bucky…baby _, fuck._ I want it, gimme that. Gimme all’a that,” Steve begs, nips at Bucky’s chin when he pulls back to chuckle, noise melting into a moan as he uses his Daddy’s body to get off, humps down into his hip, his torso. He’s feeling himself now, is more confident in his role as he grasps his Daddy’s collar tighter, holds onto it as they move as one. Steve wants to kiss the ground he walks on, wishes to worship him.

“Make us come, Daddy. Make us come, _please_. Come on, ignore what I…what I said— _wanna come,_ ” Bucky cries abruptly and a command is but a command, Steve whining to comply, whining in relief as he shifts them once more, pulls and rolls Bucky onto his side facing Steve. With their dicks lined up it leaves Bucky’s mouth at Steve’s collarbone, his lips right at the very collar he refuses to let go of. Bucky makes his Daddy do all the work, makes him scramble with their useless briefs to tuck the band up under their balls, to pull them far enough down their thighs.

“Make me come, Daddy,” Bucky whines again, right under his jaw, nips at it as he gives Steve’s collar a tight yank, and Steve _moans,_ reaches for their dicks, wraps them up in one hand. Bucky feels so good, feels so fucking _good_ in his hand, against the hot weight of his own cock. He wants to wallow and roll around in the petite pretty noises Bucky lets out into his skin, so vastly different than the treatment he gives the collar.

They don’t last long, not at all. Steve pumps his hand, his fist, around their dicks, slick with their shared precome only, twists his wrist in the way he knows makes both of their toes curl. He can’t keep his eyes open, not with the way Bucky’s teeth feel in his skin, nor the way his collar feels around his throat, not with the way Bucky’s body feels against the line of his own.

“I love you,” he whispers, voice ragged as he feels that achy build in his belly, his balls, nudging his nose, his cheek, against Bucky’s forehead. His needy move works and Bucky tips his chin, looks up at his Daddy, presses a kiss to his lips the moment he can.

“I love you too,” Bucky whimpers, eyelids drooping in a way that Steve is incredibly familiar with, in a way that has Steve hissing out a desperate, _“Yeah…”_ Three more pumps of his fist, shared encouraging noises, a squeal on Bucky’s part, and Steve feels Bucky’s dick twitch in his grip, feels that first spurt of come hit his belly that has him letting out a moan as if he were the one experiencing his orgasm.

Bucky is beautiful, is ethereal, is other-worldly. Steve is the luckiest man on Earth to be able to call Bucky his partner, his lover, his best friend. He’s so incredibly lucky to witness Bucky coming apart under his hand.

He doesn’t realize he’s waiting for permission until Bucky’s hand runs up into his hair, lets go of the collar, and moans, _“Daddy, come…”_ into his mouth. He’s waited for Bucky to come before, has put his baby’s pleasure before his own almost every time, but he’s never received _permission_ from Bucky to come. It feels vastly different. It feels like a build Steve has never felt before, like one that zips through his limbs and builds just before hitting him square in the chest.

He feels as if his heart and soul and mind are a part of this full-bodied orgasm, that it’s wrenched from his being in a way he’s never felt before, all for Bucky. He’s still coming down from each wave of pleasure that ebbs and flows from his body, Bucky’s body wrapped around his own, when he can’t help but have the same thought he’s had for a while now—

Things are different now.

He felt it that morning when Bucky asked if Daddies wore collars, felt it when they stood in that store, Bucky’s fingers dancing across Steve’s own collar. He feels it as they lay here holding each other, feels it in the way Bucky runs his fingertips across his collar as they come down. He feels this change in their comfortable silence, in the way his limbs feel featherlight. It’s different but it’s the same, still the two of them very much in love, simply embracing an unexplored realm of their relationship. He’ll always be Bucky’s Daddy, Bucky will always be his boy; there is no trace of doubt in his mind of that.

But things are different now.

They’re different because Steve is no longer frightened by the prospect of what is to come when he puts on this collar for Bucky, when the two of them want something different from time to time. Steve is ready, is almost eager, and where there was admittedly self-doubt before this moment it is nowhere to be found in the present.

Steve has a collar now.

**Author's Note:**

> [Here is a visual for Steve's collar.](https://i.etsystatic.com/17616764/r/il/8ccc47/2897379737/il_1588xN.2897379737_k06t.jpg) I have no timeline on an update but I am very very excited and I hope you are as well.
> 
> [Come talk to me here. 🥰](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/howdoyousleep3)


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